Three big males against one underweight female. Brave bastards, a credit to their gang.
Fuckers.
“Beat, kick, rape. Take turns there. Choke her. Beat her head against the concrete. Take her coat, her boots. Her shirt’s going to be ripped most likely, why take her shirt? Take her ’link if she has one, anything else, rip the fucking earrings out of her ears, and leave her.”
She took out her gauge, checked for time of death.
“Just before twenty-two-thirty. About the time we got to Banger HQ. She’s already here getting the shit beat out of her when we’re talking to Slice.”
“Are you thinking Slice ordered this, Lieutenant?”
She pushed to her feet. “You don’t?”
“Well, you’re Homicide, but . . .”
“But you work this area.”
“I sure do.”
“So, tell me why you don’t think Slice ordered this.”
“I don’t see him wanting a gang war, not this way. He wants more turf, sure.”
“Turf’s pride,” Eve put in. “It’s power and money.”
“That’s right. But you’re asking for just what you’ve got this way. A bunch of cops asking all kinds of questions. Like I said, leaving her here is a violation. I’m not saying he’s a humanitarian, but if he’d ordered her hit, it’d be cleaner.”
He swiped a finger across his throat. “He likes the sharps. Beating and raping her takes time. He’d want it quick and done. Dump her somewhere, maybe in the river. Looks more like a sex deal gone wrong, a mugging, whatever. Keep away from his turf. Cops’ll ask questions, but not like we will now, and not a spit away from his HQ.”
His take ran the same track as hers.
“You’ve got points, Grogan. Right down the line. I need you and your partner to do a canvass. TOD is just before twenty-two-thirty, but it wasn’t quick. We’re looking for anything from twenty-one to twenty-three. Do you know if she had any friends?”
“I don’t know much about her, Lieutenant. She had some crazy in her—not, you know, benign like Nancy Nuts. A mean streak of crazy. I can’t remember seeing her hang out with anyone much. She struck me as more a hanger-on than part of the inner circle, if you get me.”
“I get you. Stay with the body,” she ordered the droids, and called for the sweepers and the dead wagon.
7
As Eve wrapped up, Peabody came back with a torn, bloody shirt in an evidence bag.
“Pretty sure this is the vic’s,” she said. “Nancy had it. She said how it was just lying there, and she could use it. I bartered an energy bar for it.”
“Good catch. It’s been compromised now, but we’ll send it to the lab. Did she have boots or shoes, a coat?”
“No. What she has is mostly broken stuff, a couple stray socks, hubcaps. Junk. She did say she’d seen the girl with the purple face around.”
Peabody glanced at the body. “Purple face is pretty accurate at this point. She recognized the hair, the pink hair, and figured it was Meanie who got dead. That’s what she called Duff because she was mean.”
“Officer Grogan concurs.”
“She said mean things to Nancy—who really ought to be in a shelter. She won’t go, Dallas. She likes camping out. Sidewalk sleeping’s camping out to her.”
“How much did you give her?”
Peabody sighed. “Twenty. I know it’s pissing in the wind, but—”
“No, it’s not. She’ll get a couple of decent meals out of it.” And some rotgut, Eve thought, but why say so? “Put in a chit for it.”
“Thanks, but it was personal. I liked her. She called me Officer Puppy. She said I have puppy eyes.”
“She’s not far off. And we’re not far off from Banger HQ. Let’s go chat with Jones.”
“Saying he didn’t order the hit on Pickering,” Peabody began as they walked back to the car. “Could he have ordered this one? Payback for her part of Pickering?”
“The timing’s off, unless he found out before we told him. If we’d found her floating in the East River, or with her throat slit well inside or well outside Banger territory, I’d lean harder that way. The beat cop says the kill zone’s neutral territory, and the kill violates the code. The kind of violation that can start a gang war.”
As Eve settled behind the wheel Peabody considered. “Maybe he wants one. He wants more territory, and there’s nothing like blood and war to cement a commander’s cred.”
“I’d lean harder that way if we didn’t know he has business interests that could end up burned out or attacked in a war. The beat cop gave me a pretty clear idea of the politics. And I’ve got a tag in to Detective Strong to see what she knows or can find out about the illegals trade on Banger turf.”
“She’ll dig in. She’s a good one. Maybe the Dragons worked this to put Jones and the Bangers on the hot seat. Tie them up with cops, erode power. You hit their HQ last night, and we’re going back this morning. That seat’s pretty hot.”
“I could lean there. But . . .” She pulled to the curb near Banger HQ. “Pickering strikes as personal. So he’s turned his back on the gang,” she added as they got out of the car. “And that might earn a slap, a threat, or a beating followed by derision, not a hit. He went inside and didn’t name names, didn’t give up his gang family. That earns serious cred. You’d think enough to buy him safety.”
At the door, she repeated the secret knock. The one who opened it gave her the hard eye. “Got a warrant?”
Not as easy a mark as the one the night before, Eve calculated. More muscle than fat, a tat of a snake coiling over his shaved head. And a look of at least average intelligence in that hard eye.
“We need to talk to Slice.”
“He ain’t receiving visitors today. Especially cunt cops.”
“Why don’t you let him know Lieutenant Dallas is here, see what he says?”
“Fuck you.”
When he started to shut the door, she slammed her shoulder against it. The force, and the surprise, took him back a couple steps. She didn’t figure that would last.
“Fine. I’ll just tag the PA’s office for that warrant. My partner and I will take a stroll around the block.”
“A nice day for a stroll,” Peabody added.
“Yeah. And when we get back, we’ll haul Marcus Jones—that’s Slice, by the way—into Cop Central, for an interview on suspicion of murder. Two counts.”
“Bullshit, bitch.”
She pulled out her ’link, keyed in. “Yeah, Reo,” she began as she strolled away. “I need a warrant. Actually two,” she continued, letting her voice carry back. “The first a search and seizure.”
“Try it, bitch!” he called out. “You’ll end up bloody.”
Deliberately, she stopped, turned back to face the door guard. “Make that three. Might as well have one ready for obstruction and assault on a police officer. What’s your name, asshole?”
“Fuck you!”
He slammed the door.
“So, Reo.”
“I’m barely into my first cup of at-the-office coffee,” Reo complained. “And somebody’s already yelling fuck you.”
“Well, I’ve got two bodies in under twelve hours, had a trip to the underground, and I’m currently exchanging insults with the door guard at the Banger HQ in the Bowery.”
“Okay, you win.” Reo, a classy blonde and fierce litigator with a hint of magnolia rolled her eyes. “You’re looking to search and seize at Banger HQ? And anticipating an altercation?”
“It might come to that. Let’s give it a minute. So . . .” Eve dug for small talk. “How are things?”
On the ’link screen, Reo stared. “You’re asking me ‘how are things’?”
“I’m killing a minute. It’s the small talk. I say, how are things. You say, good or they blow. I say, great or, gee, that sucks. Then you say how about you, and I say—Never mind,” she finished when Jones opened the door. “Minute’s DOA. I’ll tag you back.”
He stood in black baggies, bare chested and barefooted, with annoyance simmering in sleep-clouded eyes.
“The fuck you want now?”
“Dinnie Duff’s dead. We can talk about that out here, in there, or down at Central. Pick, and now.”
“How’s she dead?”
“Pick,” Eve repeated. “Now.”
“Shit.” He rubbed a hand hard over his face. “Gimme five.”
When he shut the door, Eve glanced at her wrist unit. “If he goes over five, tag Reo back, get her started on the warrants.”
“You know he’s probably having illegal substances, weapons and other questionable items scooped and moved out the back.”
“If he has brains he did at least some of that last night after our conversation. Right now, he needs to get dressed because he doesn’t want to talk about Duff inside, or out on the street. He sure as hell doesn’t want me to pin his ass in Central.”
“What’s his other choice?”
“We’ll see.”
“Okay.” Peabody waited a beat. “So, how’s it going?”
Eve couldn’t stop the quick laugh. “Better way to kill the five, dig into Duff, find out next of kin for notification. Movement at a couple windows on the second level—third’s boarded, but we’ve got a couple people awake enough to watch us out here.”
“Slice works out. He’s got a mag bod going. I don’t think much of the one-armed tat sleeve personally.”
“This is why small talk is useless and annoying.”
“Not entirely. I also noted his gang tat’s the same design and in the same place as the one Pickering was having removed—even while admiring his six-pack abs.”